


Ripped at every edge

by horansparkle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Museum AU, harry is an art hoe, niall is a guard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horansparkle/pseuds/horansparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry adores the work of a mystery painter and Niall is really down to earth</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripped at every edge

**Author's Note:**

> I went to the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam recently and got inspired

Harry walked through halls of serenity and quietness, and he never felt so relaxed in his life. It was silent, apart from the few whispers in the background, but it was easily tuned out as he let his eyes wander. It was later in the day, and he knew from experience there weren't a lot of people around anymore when he visited museums around closing time. 

The lightning in the building was slightly dimmed, and it made him feel like he was floating somewhat, his eyes never leaving the paintings that hung on the walls in impressive old frames. He stopped at every single piece, not wanting to miss the beauty of what once was just a white canvas. He was so impressed by all the work in the rooms that he felt guilty if he skipped one. It was nonsense of course, all in his head, but the brunet liked to think that he had seen every piece they had collected here. 

The work was made by a relatively unknown artist, who called himself Gatsby, although the people familiar with his work knew that wasn't his real name. Only a small amount of people knew who he was or what he looked like, but Harry didn't really care about that. He just adored the man's paintings. 

The small museum near by his place was lucky enough to present the few works the mystery painter had made, and when the curly lad heard about it, he couldn't wait to go to his exposition. 

So here he was, admiring the art. He thought the museum did a really good job of presenting it, every piece in a respectful place with nice lightning. Not one piece overshadowed the other. 

The style reminded him of a mixture between Monet and Klimt, but somehow it seemed really modern, and he guessed 'Gatsby' was a young man. Harry had been to a lot of museums all around Europe, mostly when he was on vacation, but this was somehow different. He felt a weird sort of connection with the paintings, like it was his secret. Maybe that was because he was in of the few familiar with the work, or maybe it was because he got the emotion behind the pieces. 

They weren't sad, on the contrary. They were colorful and showed happiness, sincere smiles and the joy of a child, yet it was made with seriousness and with a preciseness Harry wished he had. 

Harry wasn't an artist, didn't claim to be one at least. He liked to draw from time to time and had dabbled a bit in photography, but he was too busy with school and his friends. And that was fine, he never had the intention to make art on the level as 'Gatsby' did, but he would like to improve himself. Would like to do better, but he never had a goal so he never really did. 

He stood still by a particular painting, one of a field with big, colorful flowers and pink, purple skies. It was beautiful and he felt at ease, somehow. It gave him rest, like he could stare at it and all his worries would go away with the wind. Worries about his school, about how his mum would hold up when he would move out, how his sister Gemma was doing. 

He sighed. 

His head felt a bit empty and his legs felt weak, and he was a bit scared but at the same time it didn't matter, because never had a painting given him this feeling. He decided right there that this piece was his favorite. 

The tall bloke looked at the name and it read 'This Is Bigger' and he really felt like it was. 

Harry got out his phone, ready to take a picture, when a voice stopped him. 

"Excuse me, sir, you can't take pictures of the works from this exposition." An Irish accent informed him. He rolled his eyes and turned around, only to be met with a beautiful guy in a security uniform. 

"Please? I won't use the flash." Harry asked, but the lad shook his head. 

"Sorry mate. This guy doesn't want anyone taking pictures of his work." He shrugged and walked over to stand next to Harry. 

The security guard was small, smaller than Harry, and he wondered how the Irishman got this job. He had blond hair but it was obviously dyed, oceanic blue eyes and a cute nose. 

"It's nice, isn't it?" The guard shook him out his trance, and Harry blinked a few times before looking at the painting again. He smiled a bit to himself. 

"It's more than nice, it's breathtaking." Harry told him, which made the blond snicker. 

"It's an okay painting, I guess." He said, and Harry decided to leave it at that because he wasn't really in the mood to argue about something so peaceful. 

They stayed in silence for a while before the guard spoke again. 

"It's almost closing time." He said, and Harry nodded, but they both left it at that. 

"Don't you feel at ease?" The brunet asked, and it was silent again. Harry didn't mind. After all, it was a museum. 

"I guess it has something. The colors go good together. Reminds me of me childhood in Ireland." The blue eyed boy spoke. 

"I'm Harry." He introduced himself, and the blond smiled and looked up from the painting to look in Harry's eyes, almost burning. 

"I'm Niall." He said. He held out his hand for Harry to shake, which the taller one accepted. 

"I like how... How it feels like it has a bigger meaning." Harry said, and he saw Niall smiling to himself from the corner of his eye, so he decided to continue. 

"It's almost like, he wants to tell something bigger, I don't really know what, but, I don't know, it makes me not think for a while, you know?" He spoke again. He didn't get a reaction but he didn't expect one. 

Harry noticed it was completely silent in the room now, and he assumed the few people that were here left or went to another room. Like Niall said, it was almost closing time, but he didn't feel like leaving. As long as the smaller one didn't push him, he was gonna stay here. 

"You like his work then?" Niall said more than asked, but he nodded anyway. 

"Adore it, more like. It's joyous and sincere, it's so... Free almost. The ideas from a child but the work of an adult, I don't really know how to explain." And then it was silent again. 

They both stared at the painting for a few more minutes, but they weren't bored. Harry thought it was nice to tell someone how he felt about the work and the artist to someone who actually listened. His friends didn't really care and his mum was too busy. He didn't think Niall was that big of a fan but he didn't interrupt him, and that was nice, for a change. 

"Have you seen more of his work?" And it seemed like the blond was interested at some level, but not quite. Nevertheless Harry nodded again, but this time didn't explain. It didn't matter. 

Harry moved his eyes from the painting to Niall, and he saw the frown on his face and his bottom lip between his lips, like he was concentrating really hard on something. 

"This painting was one of the first he created. You can see it by the way the flowers are big and overlapping, and you can still see pencil marks." Niall said, and Harry actually frowned at that because it wasn't stated anywhere, but maybe as a guard Niall heard or learned about it. He took a few steps closer to the painting and he was right, Harry could see some pencil marks under the paint. He looked at Niall who smiled at him, which he returned. 

"I think this is my favorite painting from now on." Harry stated, and he saw Niall smile again, but he pretended he didn't see it. 

"Do you like his work?" He asked him instead, and he saw the blond was a bit taken aback, but then just shrugged. 

"I mean, it isn't bad, but I'm more of a fan from the Renaissance, I guess." He answered while rubbing his neck. Harry didn't expected that so he smiled, which the blond returned. He had a nice smile, sincere, calm. It reminded him of the paintings surrounding them. 

"You're really not a fan, are you?" Harry said, to which Niall sheepishly shrugged. They smiled at each other again and the curly one was positive Niall could go right in with the paintings because he was beautiful in the same way. 

"Horan!", someone behind them yelled, "it's closing time!" And then the man walked away. Niall looked at him apologetically. 

"Sorry Harry, but we really do close soon." He said. Harry nodded, stealing a quick glance at the painting. He saw something at the bottom, something he hadn't seen before. He took a few steps closer and leaned to see what it was. 

"Look, oh my boss is gonna kill me, but what the hell. Okay you can take one picture of something in the room. No flash though." Niall said, giving Harry a grin as the burnet quickly got his phone. He knew exactly what to photograph. Niall smiled at his actions and looked at the painting again. He heard a shutter of a camera and looked at Harry, only to see the camera of his phone in his direction. 

"Did you just took a picture of me?" Niall asked. Harry blushed a bit but nodded anyway. 

"Why?" 

"Why do you dislike this painting?" Harry asked him instead, and Niall looked at him, really looked. 

"I've seen prettier things." He said, and Harry felt his cheeks heat up but shook his head. 

"No, that's not it. You are very critical of his work, tell me things about it that isn't mentioned anywhere. You are him, you are Gatsby." He told him, and Niall seemed to grow a bit pale at that. It was silent, and Harry knew he was right about what he saw. On the bottom of the painting, there were to letters, initials, signed. NH. Niall Horan. 

"You can't tell anyone." The Irish lad said after a few moment of silence. 

"I won't, I promise." He told him, and Niall seemed to get a bit of his color back. Then, he laughed. 

"I should have known you would figure it out. You didn't even ask if I knew him." Niall said, to which he just shrugged. 

"It didn't really matter to me. I just really adore the work." He told Niall, who blushed madly. 

"Thank you." He almost whispered. 

"You still haven't answered my question, though." Niall said. 

"What question?" 

"Why'd you took a picture of me?" 

Harry took a deep breath, smiling a bit at the blond painter. He could see Niall trusted him with his secret, and what would Harry gain by spilling it?

"You reminded me of your work. Peaceful. Calm. Beautiful." He told him, both boys blushing.

"Well, this may sound a bit forward, but, can I draw you sometime? I mean, you've got the looks for it, and ..." Niall stuttered out, and Harry couldn't believe his ears, couldn't believe 'Gatsby' was actually asking him this. The artist he adored wanted to draw him. 

"Yes! Yes of course." Harry said. 

"I mean, you already are a masterpiece, I just want to try to capture it, if I can." Niall said which made the other blush. 

Yes, Niall could turn him into a masterpiece.


End file.
